BROKEN VOWS:- FALLING FOR MY MARRIAGE COUNSELOR

LILLIAN

   TWO WEEKS LATER

   "You and Mr Blackwell looked good at your parents estate on Saturday," the interviewer said with a bright, cheerful voice. "Can you tell us what always keeps you smiling?"

  I smiled. Or at least I tried to. 

   "Absolutely," I said, folding my hands in my lap, like the proper, composed woman I was always taught to be. "Joe is my best friend. We support each other in everything we do and that alone strengthens our relationship."

   The interviewer hummed, pleased as she scribbled what I had just said, like she knew she was about to make a great deal out of this interview. My publicist exhaled behind her, relieved. Everyone always wanted the fairytale. 

   They just never bother to know if the princess ever forgot who the hell she was.

   I was just about to head into my office when the interviewer's voice stopped me.

   "You don't mind us uploading the photos with your article, right?"

   I turned to look at her with a tight smile. "Yeah, no problem. Go ahead." 

   Not waiting for anymore questions, I quickly headed back to my office to get ready for my counseling session with Joe, when I got a text from Vivian wishing me good luck with my interview and also my first session.

   I still remember her reaction when I told her about Saturday night dinner.

   "I saw him," I announced.

   Her coffee cup froze midair, hovering just below her lips. Her eyes grew wide before she went completely still, like my words had just knocked the air out of her. 

   "At dinner," I continued, "the one my father hosted on Saturday evening? He walked in like a man who had everyone's lives in the palm of his hands."

   She blinked and sat up straight in her seat. Who?"

   I looked up. My face must've said everything-every name I didn't want to say, every memory I hadn't touched in years. She saw it. I knew she did. 

   She blinked. Once. Twice.

   "No," she whispered. "You're kidding."

   "I wish.

   Her voice dropped. "But your dad and Joe... they  still don't have a clue, right? About you two?"

   "No one knows and it will stay like that," I muttered. 

   "But he disappeared without a word. Why now?" She said, rolling her eyes. "Lily, I have a bad feeling about this and I don't like it."

   To be honest, she was saying things I hadn't dared myself to say out loud-thoughts that had been circling my head for weeks. And now, hearing them spoken back to me without a single beat... it rattled me. Like she reached in and pulled the truth out of my chest, and held it up to the light. It scared the hell out of me.

   I told her everything. How it started, what he said, and the look he had in his eyes. 

   She didn't take it well... she lost it. Not just mad, furious. Pacing, swearing, nearly throwing her coffee across the cafè. "You've got to be kidding me." She hissed. "He said that? To you?"

   Now she won't leave me alone. My phone hasn't stopped buzzing ever since. She's worried. I can feel it in the way she keeps checking up on me.

    I checked my watch-shit. It's almost 2:00 pm.

    The session starts in thirty minutes.

   I shoved back my chair and sprinted out of my office, heels thudding against the floor, not wasting another second.

   *~*~*~*~*~*

   Of course, there's traffic. The car in front of mine barely moved, boxed in as the streets of New York were filled with the bleating noise of horns and angry drivers. My fingers drum against the steering wheel, faster with every passing second.

   My phone buzzes. I glanced down.

   Joe:- Hurry. Our session starts soon.

   No "Are you okay?" No "where are you?" Just orders, like I'm his goddamn assistant running late. I exhaled hard through my nose, resisting the urge to throw my phone into the passenger seat.

   I swerved into a side street the moment the traffic loosened. The tires screech. A horn blares. I don't care. 

   By the time I reached the building, I was halfway jogging from the parking lot, heels clicking hard against concrete, hair sticking to the back of my neck. Breath caught in my throat, jaw clenched as I yanked the door open and rushed through the lobby, straight to the front desk.

   "Couples counseling?" I asked, breath short.

   The receptionist didn't bother looking up."Fifteenth floor. That's the top."

   I nodded once, already heading to the elevator, and hit the button to the fifteenth floor. The elevator moved slowly like it knew I was in a hurry.

   Finally,

   The elevator door slid open with a low hiss. I stepped out, barely two steps into the hallway, when Joe stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

   He stood there, motionless, but everything about him was tight. His shoulders were rigid. Jaw clenched. Eyes locked on me, unblinking. The silence between us stretched, heavier by the second, until he finally spoke. 

   "You're late," he said under his breath.

   "I told you last night I had an interview."

   "You didn't say you'd be late."

   "I would have arrived earlier than this, but I was stuck in traffic."

   He gave me a look. "You should have mentioned that."

   "I'm not doing this right now." I snapped.

   "You're being a little-"

   Before anything could erupt, a voice broke through the tension. A woman who I hadn't noticed when I arrived sat near the counselor's office, likely his assistant. 

   "Mr and Mrs Blackwell? Dr. Carter will see you now."

   I blinked.

   "Carter?"

   "Yes, ma'am," she said, smiling. "He's waiting."

   My stomach clenched, threatening to bring out everything I've eaten in the past few days. There's no way. No. This can't be happening. 

   I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to settle my nerves. I'm just being ridiculous and overdramatic over nothing. A lot of people are named Cater-it's a common name.

   Joe didn't wait. He pushed the door open and walked into the office, leaving me behind with my spiraling thoughts.

   I wiped my sweaty palm on my jeans and followed, heart pounding against my rib like it was composing its horror song. 

   And then... I saw him. 

   Seated behind a dark mahogany desk. Dark suit that matches his surroundings. Leaning back in his chair like he'd been waiting all day for me to arrive.

   Ronan Carter.

   My throat closed.

   He rose slowly, a smile tugging at his mouth, shadows catching on the sharp lines of his face. Then he walked over and held out his hand.

   "And hello," he said, voice calm, but laced with danger, "Mrs Blackwell."